Back to the US? Part 1 of 3

Our crossing from the Bahamas to Miami was the polar opposite of our crossing from Ft. Pierce to the Bahamas just months before. On our first trip across the Gulf Stream, we experienced little waves, a gentle breeze and no mechanical problems. Everything was perfect. We were spoiled by that trip. The return trip was not going to be anything like that. Instead of being spoiled, we were traumatized. “Don’t be so dramatic” you say. Our crossing home included big waves, high winds, repeated dual engine failures, an unconscious captain, mayday calls, flares, scared children, close calls with cruise ships, EPIRBS, helicopters, Coast Guard boats, Coast Guard officials calling family members, scared family members, and Miami-Dade fire and rescue.

Traumatized doesn’t seem to be too far a stretch now, does it?

I’ll start with the fact that everybody is fine. The boat is fine, the kids are fine, even the captain is fine [after about a month of lingering health issues]. We started our crossing as we always do. We waited for our weather window, we got some fuel, we checked our engines. We had been having a little trouble with one of the engines but attributed it to low fuel. Looking back now, the first mistake we made was pushing the range of our fuel. We were trying to get to New Providence where the fuel prices were cheaper. Way cheaper.  When you hold 500 gallons of fuel, saving $1/gallon really adds up. By the time we cruised through the Exumas and across to New Providence, we were low, really low. That was when we started having issues with one of the engines. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed by Steve while underway with our other engine carrying the weight. Usually it was only down for 15-30 minutes before he had it running again. We’re low on fuel, we thought. No big deal. We fixed that problem in New Providence and didn’t have any more issues with the engines. We went on to Browns Cay and enjoyed our time there. Brown's Cay Post

Fast forward to the morning of our crossing. 5:00 am. All is quiet and still. Even the water doesn’t seem to be moving, reflecting the moon, creating the only light other than the stars. We begin our pre-trip check. Engines warming up while we finalize the rest and that’s when the trouble started. The same engine died. Engine one. Crap. Steve got it back up and running quickly and we thought, maybe it’s just working out air pockets in the fuel lines. We let them run for 30 minutes to be sure and raised anchor to begin our crossing. Looking back now, this was number two in the “What we should have done” moments. We shouldn’t have left. The thing is, 99% of the time we’ve owned Miss Daisy, our motors have run flawlessly. Our entire trip in the Bahamas, we never had one single issue. Steve always completes his routine maintenance on all our engines. They are old, they have a lot of hours, but they are work horses. Both of our engines and our generator. They earned our trust because they have never let us down. So that is what we based our decision on. Our engines ran. They are mechanically sound. We had a low fuel issue, junk from the tanks, air in the lines, that’s it. We had no reason to doubt them.

Less than 30 minutes after leaving, engine 1 dies again! Only this time, while Steve is in the engine room getting it running again, engine 2 dies. Double crap! It’s still pre-dawn, so we’re now floating around in the dark. We check our radar to make sure we don’t have any vessels near us and Steve begins his task of getting at least one engine running. It doesn’t take long, after 5 minutes, engine 2 roars to life. I quickly threw it in gear and we plot a course for the nearest harbor, Cat Cay, 2 hours away. Steve works at getting engine 1 running while I keep us on course. The sun begins to rise and as engine 1 chugs to life, we begin to breathe again. The children are still asleep, completely unaware of the eventful early morning events.

An hour later and with both engines still running, we think that maybe it’d be a good idea to take on a little more fuel. We were now at 3/4 tanks, more than plenty for our crossing, but we believed fuel was the issue with the engines. Maybe the fuel we took on at NP was a little off. Maybe full tanks would solve the engine issues and so we decided that was what we’d get. As we near Cat Cay, we hail the only marina there. Turns out, it’s a private yacht club and normally they would be open for fuel but they are hosting a private event and the marina is closed to non members. Our hearts sink. We explain our dilemma to the YC and they agree to let us come in for fuel. Thank the Lord.

Once we were fuelled and the kids had walked the dogs one last time, we loaded up and went to start the motors. Engine two – VRROOOOM, CHUG, CHUG. Engine one – waaawaaaawaaawaaa. Really?! Well at least we were in a safe place. Unfortunately for the yacht club, their favor to us just backfired on them. While I was apologizing to them, Steve was working feverishly in the engine room to get #1 running. The yacht club could not have been more gracious if they tried. They were very understanding and told us we could stay at the dock as long as we needed, since technically, they were closed anyway. Another blessing.

We were there about 2 hours in total. Steve had changed the fuel filter for the second time in as many days. Thankfully, he was well prepared and well stocked with spares. After a few more modifications, #1 decided to join it’s mate and actually pull it’s weight for a change. We were back in business. Letting them both run for another 30 minutes to be sure, we headed out. It was now about 10:30am, 5+ hours behind schedule as our new friends at the YC, wishing us well and waving us off.

Lighthouse at Cat Cay

Looking back now, this is number three in the “What we should have done” moments. We shouldn’t have left Cat Cay. We should have found a safe anchorage where Steve could have done a complete check on both engines. Again, I refer you to the above statement about Miss Daisy’s past performance. We had confidence in her and so we set out on our crossing.

Our crossing was going to take about 7 hours. 7 short hours until we reached Miami and our next anchorage. We made it about 2 of those hours before trouble started again. It was just after noon. We had just begun to relax. The sun was hot, the wind was light, the air was humid. We had all been daydreaming about what we wanted to eat when we got back home. I wanted a huge cold beer. So cold, you needed to hold it in a coozie so it didn’t get your fingers too cold. Ice cold beer with frost on the bottle. Okay, maybe two. Dani wanted chocolate. Nice cold chocolate, chilled so it didn’t melt before she could eat it. Cold chocolate and a lot of it. Jake was dreaming of ice cream. A huge, double scooped, cookie dough and birthday cake flavored in a fresh waffle cone. One like his brother would make for him when Brandon worked at the ice cream shop in Vero. Mimicking holding a big cone, licking the melting ice cream before it could drip down his hand in the heat. He could picture it, we all could – he had stars in his eyes. I think he might have even tasted it!

That’s when it happened. We never even got to hear what Steve was looking forward to most. Our day dreaming ground to a halt as engine #1 did the same trick as before.  Steve and I looked at each other, me with fear, him with disappointment. Miss Daisy was beginning to let him down. She was loosing his trust, and fast. I stayed at the helm, running off engine 2 while he went into the engine room to get #1 running again. By this point, he had it down. Each time it died, it required the same thing to get it running again. It didn’t take 10 minutes, but it wasn’t a task to look forward to. See, even though we have quite a large engine room, it is well insulated. This is to keep the engine and generator noise down for the rest of the boat. It also works as a shield, keeping the heat contained. Great if we’re trying to stay cool in the hot, thick, and humid Bahamas air, not so much if you have to go inside. So in escaping the 100 degree heat of the outside, he entered the 200 degree heat of the engine room. It was literally a sauna in there. At least it wasn’t for long.  

With #1 running again, he came back up to the bridge to cool off. The swells were starting to build and we were beginning to see the large ships running the nearby shipping lanes. So far so good, though. As long as the engines held, we were making progress. We at least knew how to fix the motor quickly if it wouldn’t stay running, we felt our confidence begin to return.

It wouldn’t last long.

Another 30 minutes and I’m heading down to make some lunch. It’s about 1pm. I never made it to the galley. Engine 1 was down again. I returned to the bridge so Steve could return to his sauna. Only this time, 10 minutes passed and nothing. 20 minutes passed. I sent Dani down to check and see if everything was alright. She returns with a status report that what had been working to restart it, wasn’t this time. Not to worry though, he’s working on it. Sure enough, after 30 minutes, #1 decides to join the party again. Steve comes up top to cool off. We celebrated. The celebration didn’t last long.

Over the next several hours, we lost count of how often the engines died. That’s right, I said engines! because by this point, #2 had joined in on the workers strike #1 had started. We managed to at least make headway though, with one engine running while the other was getting repaired, only to have that one die and need to be fixed. Back and forth this went. But we were making progress. Slowly, but still it was progress. The sun was setting and we were closing in on Miami. At about 30 miles out, the stress level had begun to reach crisis level as the sun set and darkness fell. As if they thought it  was night time and time to sleep, both engine #1 and engine #2 coughed, sputtered, and belched. 

Then in unison, they both stopped.

Coming soon – Part 2 of our Back to the US? series.